It's full on spring and what a lovely spring it has been. After that hellacious winter everyone is so happy for the longer days and the warm temps and the green grass. The birds are back (and eating me out of house and home) and our entire horse herd is home for the season. Summer is coming.

Spring brings us many treasures. The earth wakes up after its long, cold slumber and, let me tell you, even if she sleeps in a bit here in Wyoming, she is definitely a busy morning person. She's straight out of bed and bursting with life. (Unlike me who rolls around moaning like a wounded Buffalo and hitting the snooze button a million times.) The snow melts slowly, unwilling to loose its hold on the earth but she doesn't care. When the snow finally pulls back the grass is already green, wildflowers are already inches tall with blooms on some of them, and the trees begin budding ASAP. After all, it's a short season here. On average we get 110 inches of snow per year ( the US average is 26 inches per year!) although this year I'm pretty sure we got double that. And I've been told that on average we only get about 15 frost free days per year. 15 days that there's no frost in the morning. 15! So, what I'm saying is, if they don't start coming up under the snow they might not get to grow at all.

Growing up in the south with a farming ancestry, I have a thing for dirt. I love the smell of it and the feel of it and as soon as that snow pulls out of here in the spring I find a way to get my hands in it. I've been know to be weeding my garden while sitting in a snow bank. I can't help it. The dirt here is rich and black and rocky. It's strong dirt. Bondurant is known for having some of the richest grasses anywhere for grazing animals. It takes less of our grass to get an animal the nutrients it needs producing sweet meat on the wild game and giving cattle a chance to catch up from the long winter.

Through our valley flows the Hoback River, known in the early early days as the Falls River, as it loses elevation very quickly over its 55 mile course on its way to join the Snake River. It's a twisty river with many mountain creeks joining it along the way. These creeks and the river swell to bursting in the spring. They turn varying shades of muddy. Granite Creek is a murky green, Cliff Creek spits out strawberry milk, Jack Creek runs a turbid brown. On a year like this one the river is a bit scary. It does whatever it wants and goes wherever it wants. And as it does it leaves bits and pieces of the mountains from which it and its creeks have come. The water this time of year is full of sediment and in this sediment are the nutrients and minerals that make our dirt so special. And every spring our dirt gets a new application of this natural fertilizer.

Another wonder of this strange land is the spring harvesting of mushrooms. The snow leaves behind a long season of wetness as it goes. The sun warms the earth and little treasures of yumminess begin to pop out. Old timers scour meadows for meadow mushrooms and puff balls and elephant ears, and searching amongst the willows and along the roots of forest fire ravaged trees find you the ever popular morels, while if you follow the snow line you'll find the strange orange brains, also known as snow morels.

I love mushrooms.

Everytime I find a patch of mushrooms I feel like a little kid who just found the X on the treasure map. Sometimes I'm hunting them and I look and strain my eyes and am just about to give up when, "Aha! Jack pot!" Other times I'm not even thinking about them and then suddenly there they are, right in front of me saying, "Hello. Here we are. Eat us!" Sam and I often go for walks in the woods with the sole purpose of finding mushrooms. It's a great way to get out and do something fun with someone you love.

My favorites are the brains even though they're hardest to clean. You always get a little grit with your gruel in those guys. Morels are right up there on the list too. Morels are great for stuffing but mostly I like them with butter and garlic.

Lucky for us morels really like places that are burned by fire. (Boy do we have a lot of that around.). Folks have been flocking to the area to seek them out. (Wish they would go away. Those are MY mushrooms haha). I personally had never searched for mushrooms in a fire area. I was astounded by what I saw when I did. Patches of black morels seemed to be bursting from the roots of the burned trees! They were everywhere! I saw some and then looked down to see that I was walking on them! So many I could not pick them all. Apparently the death of the trees and the removal of organic material from the forest floor spurs the growth of these little gems. From death comes life I guess, and in a tasty form too!

If someone had told me 10 years ago that I would get so much joy from fertile soil and abundant fungi I'm pretty sure I would've laughed at them. But maybe I would've been less worried about life and all it's challenges if I had known. Yeah, sometimes you're gonna have a hard go of things, a rough winter maybe, be low on cash, feel like the world is against you. But if you can find the joy in the little things then no matter what happens you'll always find happiness.

Here's to finding your little bit of joy today. Hope you don't have to look too hard..... Yee haw.

​**** DO NOT EAT ANY WILD MUSHROOMS unless you are CERTAIN that they are edible. This blog post is not a guide to mushroom hunting. Some people have reactions to mushrooms even when they are known to be edible. Please ingest with care if you so choose.... And if you make a greenhorn move and get sick don't blame me. ****

Spring is finally here. Well.... sort of.

We still have about a foot of snow on the ground here in the valley.  The river's up and it's trying to melt  but honestly, as much as we'd love to see the snow go, we're too afraid to wish for it to happen fast. The river can only hold so much.

It was the craziest winter I've ever seen.  I've lived here for less than a decade, granted, but I even heard the old timers say it was the worst they've seen.  It just wouldn't stop snowing.  And when it did, it was ever bit of 30 below.  I lost my sled dog yard in early December.  I couldn't keep the dog houses above the snow!  I just couldn't keep up.  So the dogs went on the truck indefinitely and they stayed there until April. Seven times a day, every day, I went out to let the dogs out.  And that's just bathroom breaks.  We also had to train and feed in between all the snowing and frigid temps.  It was wild.  I'm pretty sure before Christmas we lost the ability to see out our windows in the house.  We even lost one window in our bedroom.  The roof slid and a big ice chunk came right through . We had to board it up from the inside because we couldn't get to it from the outside. Sam pretty much spent the whole winter either in the plow truck or on the roof shoveling.  Then in February came the Chinook, complete with rain and wind and warm temps and all that snow started slipping and sliding and getting heavy.  Avalanche after avalanche.  At one point there wasn't one road open to get into or out of Jackson Hole.  We lost power. During one storm Teton Village actually closed down because the crazy winds toppled a shit pile of power poles.  Many were without power for weeks.  It was a zoo.  Then the snow got really crappy with more rain and warmth.  So I hit a lick for Canada to get out of here with my dogs for a while and go find a winter that wasn't so damn off it's rocker.

I came home the first week of April and thought maybe, just maybe, it would be spring.  WRONG. At the beginning of this month there was still a good two to two and half foot of snow on the ground.  Add mud and a river teetering on it's edge, ready to swipe through your house at any moment and, yeah, I guess you could say it's Spring now. HA!

This is not the first time in the last few months that I've had to ask myself, "Wait.  Why do you live here?"

But it's coming, even though not as quickly and cleanly as we'd all hope.  Spring is coming.  The birds are coming home.  Yesterday I heard the sandhill cranes calling out back and the herons have been fishing in the muddy shallows of the overflowing river. And the Canadian Geese are here in large numbers, trying to find a dry patch of ground to nest on. And there's a patch of dirt in my flowerbeds showing that I may or may not have had my hands in today.... just for the pure pleasure of the smell of the stuff. I even caught a robin pulling worms this morning on my way out the door.  Yeah.  Spring's coming all right. Won't be long till the antelope and the deer start coming home and the elk leave the feed grounds and head for the hills. I can't wait to have my pony back and get out in the country.  Should be one hell of a spring for mushroom hunting! And the wildflowers ought to be pretty spectacular this year also.

I didn't have much time to blog this winter.  Obviously I had a lot on my plate with the winter and the dogs and all that. But I'm excited for a summer of new adventures. I've got a colt to break and rides to take and we've been through the ringer in the last year and I've got a feeling that something good is about to happen. (You gotta manifest that shit, you know?) Hope i can keep you all entertained with a few stories here and there.  I'll let you know if anything exciting happens.

Anyway, in with the spring and out with the snow!!!! Yee Haw!

When I first found out about the possibility of doing this amazing ride across Mongolia I thought for one thing that it was absolutely crazy and for another thing that there was no way I'd be able to make it happen.  June is a busy time of year for me and our business, and traveling half way around the world isn't cheap.  But my friend insisted I at least have a look at the website.  So, I did.  The first thing I noticed was that the foundation that puts on the ride is very involved in the local communities.  When I clicked on the link for the Children of the Peak Sanctuary and watched the video and learned what was really going on in Mongolia's capital city and what Julie Veloo is trying to accomplish, I was anxious to learn more.

​The Gobi Gallop takes on ten riders every year and each of those riders is required to raise or pay a certain amount of money.  Half of that fee goes towards the requirements for the ride while the full amount of the other half goes directly to the Children of the Peak.  At the end of the 700 km ride, which is done in order to raise awareness for the foundation, there is a Gala to celebrate the rider's triumph and to raise more money through auctions and ticket sales.  This year's Gobi Gallop Saddle, which each rider had to do their share of time in, sold for $4000 USD! 

​The school itself is a wonder.  It's like a beautiful Iris blooming in the middle of a trash dump (almost literally).  Set in the middle of the "ger district" which is like a giant shanty town on the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar, it's clean and feels homey, the children are happy, there is singing and dancing, loving and learning.  Some of the kids when they first opened the school had a hard time interacting with others.  Someone there said to me that they were like wild things, always fighting and arguing, not understanding the concept of sharing.  In the garbage dump, scavenger's don't share.  You TAKE what you can get.  She said the transformation had been amazing.  That the students were not only learning how to share and interact with one another properly but were thriving on it and taking those skills back home to brothers and sisters and other peers and even to their parents.  The children were equally as eager to share with us what they had learned.  One little girl counted wooden blocks to me as she placed them on the table.  She was counting to me in English.  We were offered a song and dance show.  We saw some of the crafts they were working on.  One little girl enjoyed looking at the pictures on my phone.  After watching me swipe the screen and put my password in one time she had it figured out.  The next photo I took she swiped and punched in my code before I knew what was happening.  She was probably 5 or 6 years old.  They are beautiful, bright little things that I'm happy to see have a chance in this world.  An opportunity that they wouldn't have without Julie, the foundation, and the Gobi Gallop. 

The emotions I felt visiting the school hit me out of no where.  I knew I would feel compassion and sympathy for these children but what I felt went so far beyond that.  It made me think beyond Ulaanbaatar, beyond Mongolia.  Think about how many children there are in this world that don't have the smallest things that we take for granted for our children... proper hygiene, adult leadership and role models, appropriate health care, day to day safety, clean water, abundant food, a future that hasn't already been written for them, a pen with which to write that future and the paper to write it on....

​Seeing the "ger district" was an eye opener as well.  It's so easy for us as Americans, or Westerners in general, to remain ignorant to the state of other people's lives around the world.  It's easy to imagine that everyone's lives are like ours, that everyone has the same opportunities and human rights.  This is so far from the truth.  We saw children and young pregnant mothers pushing carts filled with water from the place where they have to go to buy water for their homes.  We saw young children, unattended, playing in muddy garbage filled puddles in the middle of the pot hole filled road.  When I say pot hole I mean they were big enough to nearly swallow our cabs whole.  It was a struggle just to drive up the road to the school.  I looked at some of the houses and wondered to myself how a family could spend a minus 40 degree winter in there.  I imagined what those thousands of pit toilets must smell like in the heart of the summer... or what it must be like to go out to those pit toilets in the dead of winter... 

​Recently the school has added a library and we were able to meet the librarian and hear her story.  She was so devoted to making sure that her child got a chance at an education that she carried her youngest child from their home on her back while walking her oldest child to the school.  It turned out she was doing this with a deteriorating hip.  Basically her hip bone was falling apart inside of her and yet she still carried her toddler and walked her child to school every single day to ensure she received this education.  The teachers at the school recently gathered together to donate money to help her receive a much needed surgery and the school gave her a job as the librarian to help her make a steady income.

​The depth of the reach of this project is what really got my attention.  They aren't just building a school and giving them a foundation and saying, well, good luck with that.  They are delving deeper and deeper with every effort into the surrounding community.  "Nothing is so contagious as enthusiasm." (Coleridge)  And never has this been more evident to me than when I visited this school and the Veloo Foundation is not stopping at half assed.  They are truly following through and pushing initiatives like getting flushing toilets in the school and community showers, vocational programs for young adults and parents, summer camps in the countryside so that the children can learn about their heritage and history, and scholarship opportunities for students who wish to continue their education after the kindergarten.

​The sad part of the story is that it costs over $15,000 dollars a month to keep the school up and running.  They could take in many more children.  They have the room.  They just don't have the money.

​I implore any of you who are able, any of you who have children that were given the opportunity to grow up and become anything they wanted to be, any of you who care about the people of this world, donate.  Even if you don't donate to the Veloo Foundation or Mongolia, give in any little way you can to the children of this world, anywhere.  Our world depends on the well-being and education of our children.  Our world depends on us to give the children of the world a sense of values, the ability to learn, and the curiosity to continue to seek knowledge. 

​You may still contribute as my sponsor here: ​http://raiseathon.ca/gobigallop4/profile/0sjcqn2.

​Every little bit helps.

​"Our greatest natural resource is the minds of our children."
​- Walt Disney

So, as some of you may have heard we have been in the midst of a raging forest fire for a little over a week now.  Talk about scary....

​Last Sunday, Sam and I took our friends out for a ride up to Cliff Creek Falls.  They are some Amish fellows from Pennsylvania who were here doing some work for a friend of ours while simultaneously enjoying a little get away.  We had a great day and a wonderful ride.  When we returned to the trail head and our truck we were approached by a forest service personnel who informed us that there was a fire started by lightning at the highway entrance to the road we were on.  He instructed us to go down the road to our friends Ron and Connie Palmer's camp to await instruction.

​At this point we look up to see a huge cloud of smoke rising from the area between us and our home.  We immediately become very worried.  We find a note in the truck from Paul who came up to see if he could somehow tell us to get out as soon as possible.  Worry begins to set in.

​We head down to our friend's camp and help them get ready to load up.  The fire was started very close to their camp.  They saw the lightning hit as did Paul.  They from their camp, him from our front porch.

​I begin frantically trying to get a text out to Liz.  There's talk of the Black Powder being on fire and the fire moving very quickly towards the south and my home.  I immediately begin to think of evacuation of our horses.  I get in contact with Liz.  She's grateful we're alive and begins moving to load horses and hook up trailers. 

​When we arrive at the highway entrance to Cliff Creek Falls we are told that we must go to Hoback, that we are not allowed to go to Bondurant.  Like hell, I thought.  But I remained calm and courteous to the people there at the roadblock.  We could now see flames and part of the destruction the fire had created.  The whole entire right hand side of the road was burnt to a crisp and still flaming.  The smoke was so thick it was impossible to see south towards Bondurant at all.  There was fire on both sides of the road.  The highway patrolman told me when he first arrived it was maybe half an acre but within 20 minutes it was the entire mountainside.  That's fast.

​Sam spoke with some friends from the Bondurant Fire Department, which he recently joined.  They give him a ride through the fire to our home.  I am grateful for this.  Soon the highway patrolman asks if I can drive the rig.  ABSOLUTELY, I say.  Just let me get home.

​We follow him through the giant black smoke cloud and the complete devastation is revealed to us.  Monument ridge was burning like crazy.  The Black Powder lost a hay barn and a tack shed.  The flames were practically licking George and Patty Engler's home.  And it was racing down the ridge towards the Elk Horn and ever closer to my home.  Across the highway it was threatening the Fisk properties and burning up towards Garden Creek as quick as it could go.  It was like driving through the valley of hell.  Black smoke and flames over a hundred feet in the air.  Mind boggling, amazing, and humbling.

​I arrive at my place to find Liz, John, JR, and Ruthie have managed to get all the horses that we didn't have with us caught and loaded onto trailers.  Random people pulled in off the highway to help, hooking on to our horse trailers with their trucks.  My fifth wheel was almost ready to go with slide outs pulled in and things tucked away in a hurry.  Liz runs up to me and says, "Thank God you're alive and they let you out!  They just came and told us we need to be evacuating right now!".  So, we finish buttoning down my camper, get it hooked to someone's truck.  Then we get the chickens loaded in crates.  Then we help Sam get guns and other items of immediate importance out of the house.  Our fear was that if we evacuated they wouldn't let us come back for some time.  Get it now or else you might not get it was our thinking.

​I look at Sam and say, "Are we ready?"  We think so and are just about to head out when the people in charge of evac tell us we can wait a minute.  "PANIC!  No, Just Kidding.  You're fine.  Stay here."  Too late.  I already panicked. 

​So, everything ready to roll at a minutes notice, we stop to watch the insanity.  Sam heads out to help the Bondo Fire Department any way he can. 

​I have to say. I was pretty impressed with how quickly all these people came to help us.  The fire was knocked back a few notches by the retardant planes and water dropping helicopters and we were all safe for the night.  No structures lost except the one hay barn/tack shed at the Black Powder.  Eventually we unload horses.  Paul sits by the tack shed with his water hose and a beer.  My adrenaline runs out and I become very, very tired.

​A restless nights sleep.  Sam stumbles in, exhausted, at about 5:30 AM.  I awake to smoke and want to know what's going on.  Where are the bomber planes?  Where are the choppers?  The way the smoke is coming up over Monument, I'm sure that the fire is going to come back over the top of the ridge and right for us.  Around noon it does just that. 

​We all, about 20 of us altogether, sit in lawn chairs in the driveway and watch.  What else is there to be done?  Seeing those flames crest Monument Ridge and begin down the face of it, towards the Elkhorn, towards our house, was unbelievable.  The speed with which those huge flames could eat up the forest was amazing.  Watching the trees literally explode one by one was like something from a movie.  The helicopters return but we don't see a big plane all day.  The helicopters work all afternoon pulling water from behind the Elkhorn and dumping it as fast as they can.  Back and forth, zoom, zoom, dump, dump, again, again, again. 

​The wind doesn't help them any.  It takes them all afternoon.  I can still see flames out my window that night when I go to bed.  I'm still on edge and have a restless sleep.  Sam heads out for round two of night watch.

​Day Three and they start with the helicopters much earlier than day two.  They seem to get Monument under control.  But now they've got a whole new problem.  The fire is burning up Shoal Creek and towards the Granite Drainage.  They incite a mandatory evacuation of the Jack Pine Summer Homes and surrounding area.  Frank Teasley's kennel seems in danger but with 180 dogs, where can he go?  They decide to wait it out.

​At this point the canyon has been closed from Daniel Junction all the way to Hoback Junctino and it's eerily quiet around here in between helicopters.  The smoke in the mornings in nearly unbearable.  We watch the smoke plumes from Garden Creek and Shoal Creek areas with heartbreak.  That's our home, even if it's not our house.  We were watching our livelihood burn up right before our eyes.

​This was a post I made on Facebook in the middle of it all.  "My heart is broken for what has already been lost. This is our home we are losing even if it isn't our house that's burned down. We spend our lives out there in those woods. We know every nook and cranny and beaver pond and crooked aspen tree. We have memories of seeing bear tracks here and of having killed an elk there and of having hiked through that one little timber patch and remember that time old Patches bucked so hard he got his lash rope caught in that tree? Now that tree is probably gone. And it might of been just a tree to anybody else but to me that was a whole story. A reminder of that one time we were here and something cool or crazy or scary or funny happened. I'm scared sure. I might have to evac in the middle of the night. Everything our family has built may be at risk. I want to be mad at someone but I don't know who.
But mostly I'm heartsick. I feel a great emptiness at what has gone up in smoke. All those places that I knew in such an intimate way. Places I've ridden through a hundred times or more. Places my husband has ridden through too many times to count. Places his dad probably cut the trail himself. Places we all love with all our heart and soul. Poof. Just like that."

​And ever since then we have watched more and more of it burn up.  Shoal Creek, Garden Creek, Whiskey Draw, Riling Draw, Parody Draw, Tin Can Park maybe.... just rolling through everything that has been everything to me for the last seven years and decimating it as it goes.

​It's been especially hard to watch from here, unable to REALLY tell what's going on out there.  Praying for rain, praying for no wind, praying for it to stop.  We've heard rumor that they expect it to keep going until we get snow.... so we're praying for one of Wyoming's famous July snowstorms.... we haven't got it yet.

​This week it has really dawned on me how much this is going to affect us and our business.  The road has reopened but much of the area we usually do our rides in is still closed to access.  It was lucky that somehow last week we had no clients booked for rides.  This week, however, I had lots of stuff booked.  Two cancellations later, I have lost thousands of dollars due to this fire already.  Between the smoke, the closures, and people's perceptions of what's going on here due to what they've heard through the grapevine, it's making it very hard for us to continue as usual. 

​I have places mapped out for new ride routes and am ready to continue with the business.  We can make it all work.  There is still plenty of countryside around, and all of it beautiful and (so far, knock on wood) unburned. 

​It has been a wearisome, worrying, exhausting experience.  It has effected us in ways we never even thought of before. 

​We are thankful for everything that we haven't lost.  It's good to have our home and livestock and family safe and sound.  We are thankful to the men and women who have sacrificed their time and risked their lives to come ensure that we are all safe and sound. 

​Thanks to everyone for the kind words, prayers, and well wishes.  It has been amazing to see the support of everyone.  People we know and don't know alike.  I had offers from friends in Jackson of bringing a convoy of horse trailers around the roadblock to help us get all our stuff out.  I'm thankful it didn't come to that but even more thankful that if it had, there were those out there willing to help us.  We had offers of pasture for our horses, places for us to stay, etcetera, etcetera.  Sharon has been having trouble breathing with the smoke so our friends offered up their place on Fremont Lake where she's been staying for several days and they've been feeding her at their restaurant and making sure she's taken care of. 

​This isn't the most well written post, sorry about that.  I've been unable to write for a while but I do have some stuff I'm working on for the very near future (assuming there are no more emergencies or natural disasters or anything like that).  Thank you all for sticking with me and continuing to read my posts.  I just wanted to get this out to you guys and let you know what's going on with us. 

​We will be all right.  I know that because I know us.  We will figure out a way to work with mother nature because that's what we do.... 

​

Well, I made it.  I rode a horse 706k across part of Mongolia in ten days time and it was AMAZING.  There are so many things I want to tell you guys about Mongolia and the children and the Mongolian people and the trip that I think I'm going to have to do a couple of posts.
​
​The trip to Mongolia was pretty uneventful although really long and the girl on the plane next to me threw up.  It's been a long time since I've been on a plane for that long and I can honestly say I didn't miss it. 

​I arrived in Ulaanbaatar at 2 AM and got picked up by my hotel driver.  Within five minutes of leaving the airport I spot two guys horseback moving a herd of cows through downtown, high rise, big city Ulaanbaatar.  My mind was blown.  I arrived to my hotel to find out that there was no hot water in my room and that to shower I would need a key to a different room.  ???  Welcome to Mongolia, where randomness is the name of the game, everyone is always laughing, and you aren't sure what the food is (unless it's mutton and then you're sure.  You're very sure.)

​The next day I met with everyone who would be in our group, along for the ride.  Our fearless leader and founder of the Children of the Peak Sanctuary, Julie Veloo had everything in order.  I quickly found out that everyone on the trip is just as crazy as me and that I would definitely make some life long friends.  Hailing from the US, Britain, Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Switzerland, Saudi, and Singapore there was a good mix of cultures, senses of humor, and levels of insanity.  Ha Ha.

​Steve arrived the following evening and it was so so so good to see my old friend.  Nothing between us has changed despite the fact that we live on opposite ends of the earth and the years between visits.  As usual, we picked up right where we left off.  It's sure a blessing to have a friend like that. 

​The city was crazy big.  High-rises everywhere although most of them unfinished or in various states of disrepair.  The city seems to spread on forever with the high rise district being surrounded on all sides by the "ger district" which is full of impoverished people living in various states of squalor.  The kindergarten is right in the middle of this district.  More about the kindergarten and the children in an upcoming post. 

​After visiting the kindergarten we headed out to the country side.  Buildings and gers quickly became more sparse.  We eventually landed at Baggi and Saraa's ger camp in the most lovely river valley I have maybe ever seen.  Cows, yaks, camels, goats, sheep, and of course horses dotted the landscape.  An immediate sense of welcome and serenity approached us all.  We were shown to our gers, four people to each.

​We then headed out for our first ride in Mongolia.  I felt a little out of place in my chinks and cowboy hat as all the other riders were in breeches and half chaps and the Mongolians I'm sure were smiling at me either in awe or amusement (the latter being more likely).  We took a short ride for evaluation.  I was given my beautiful grey horse this day and I would do most of the trek with him. 

​Later we were welcomed with a feast of sheep filled dumplings, fry bread, milk tea, and really good vodka.  We were given saddle bags inscribed with our initials and the Gobi Gallop logo.  We were also given handmade Mongolian deels which are beautiful robes made for riding.  I would do most of the trip wearing my deel.  A culture that has been riding for thousands and thousands of years has got a few things figured out.

​And we got to meet our Mongolian guides.  There was never any lack of laughter and joking around.  Lots of toasts and vodka. 

​The next morning we would head out.  17 riders including guides and Buchin, our youngest guide at 10 years old.  As well as 4 support vehicles, each with their own driver and with 4 cooks in tow.  We also had one extra horse for each rider and our mascot camp dog, Ayuma.

​It was a strange feeling heading out of that camp knowing what lie ahead of us.  It was excitement and trepidation and butterflies and nerves and happiness.  One group photo and a few splashes of vodka on us as we left to bless our journey and we were off.

​The following 11 days were each more fantastic than the one before.  There were tears and sweat and blood and shits in the open air and endless hunger and constant fatigue of both body and mind.  Rashes on asses and bruises in places they don't belong and muscles found that we didn't know we had (and sometimes wished we didn't).   There were falls and spooked horses and injured horses and riders alike and endless mine fields of gopher holes.  There was heat and cold and burning sun and pouring rain and whipping wind.  There was broken gear and 70 kilometers a day to make.  Sometimes there was a missing camp or a camp that came to us as if given by the gods, a few kilometers earlier than expected.  There was vodka and wine and whiskey and rum.  There were cigarettes shared while riding knee to knee with a singing Mongolian.    There were bucking horses and tired horses and horses that just didn't know how to quit.  There were entire families riding up on a motor bike out of no where (the whole family on ONE motorbike).  There were random singing locals that appeared to us as if an apparition at a sparkling water hole surrounded by alien like goats and sheep.  And little smiling fat cheeked Mongolian girls with yo-yos and fake pearl bracelets to cheer us on after an 85 kilometer day.  There was mutton and more mutton and just when you thought it was over, MORE mutton.  There was trail mix, lots of trail mix and chocolate.  There were hours of laughter with an old friend in the evening when you were hysterical from exhaustion.  There were new friends made and life stories (and scandals) shared.  There were entire conversations had without words being understood.  There was miles and miles of country to cover.  There was everything and there was nothing. 

​I can't explain how I felt during or after this experience.  I wrote in my journal at the completion of our journey, "How does one feel after 700km on horseback in Mongolia?  Everything.  One feels everything.  I can't even begin to explain it.  I feel full and empty all at once.  Crazy.  700 km."

​It was an experience like I've never had and am likely to never have again.  I learned so much about myself and the world and people and horses.  I learned that two cultures can be so similar and yet so far removed from each other that it's hard to wrap your mind around.  I learned that it's a privilege to live where I live and have been given the lifestyle I have been given. 

​I have so much more to share with you about this adventure.  I plan to do posts specifically about the school and the kids, about the amazing horses, and about the amazing people.  And I'll have to throw a funny one in there to detail all the crazy things we had to deal with that maybe we didn't consider before we left.

​Thanks so much from the bottom of my heart and from the hearts of the Children of the Peak for helping make dreams come true.  The support of all of you guys has been overwhelming and has really made a difference. 

​There is still time to donate if you like.  Please visit www.veloofoundation.com and go to where it says US Donors.  Click the donate one time button and in the subject box put my name (Alix Pearson) and "Gobi Gallop". 

​Here are a few photos to give you an idea of what it was like.

Been a bit of a slacker lately with my posts. Sorry for that. Been a busy week prepping for my trip. (I'm actually posting now from Seattle as I await my flight to Beijing! On my way!)

Was also busy last week helping at lots of brandings. We don't run cattle ourselves but there are several local ranchers and friends right around us that do. And as this is a Western phenomenon that I never knew a thing about before I moved out here AND one of my favorite yearly events, I thought I'd share the experience with you guys.

First, I would like to say that I LOVE BRANDINGS!!! Everything about them is wonderful from the sites and smells and sounds to the community comradery to the tradition to the food and beer.... All of it! It marks the end of spring and the beginning of summer.

There is nothing quite like the sight of a branding. First things first, all the folks who brought their horses head out as a group, after a brief good morning mounted powwow. Horses and neighbors alike whinny or shout a hello, how'd you winter, and other good natured banter. (I got calls of, wow that pony is fat. Haha)

Then away they all head out to go gather the cattle. Fathers tow their cowboy mini-me's along behind them on their own horses, the youngest of them on a lead, those a little older and braver bouncing along on their own steeds who are better than the greatest of babysitters. A few Cowboys lope off in different directions checking on mother cows who have very recently calved or on lone calves that may be sick. The rest of the crew half circles behind the herd and mother cows start up a deep bellowing call for their young calves as the group of horses and riders push them along, gathering all slowly towards the branding pen. The noise grows as the group comes together with 180+ cows lowing and calling as they search for their young and the riders whistle and whoop to keep them all moving forward.

As the approach to the pen nears, the riders and horses apply a little extra pressure. Sometimes the black mass (with the occasional red Hereford mixed in) moves easily and steadily into the pen and mill about. Other times they dodge the gate or bolt away or jam up in the gate. But there's always a horse and rider to keep them headed the right way. And the occasional good cowdog too.

Once into the branding pen the irons are heated and the three or four guys who are set to rope for the day start getting their ropes ready. The vaccinations are prepped and the littlest cowboys and cowgirls get their grease markers ready to go so they can mark the calves by color as they're dosed with vaccines. (This is a job they take very very seriously and seems to be a sort of rite of passage for all little kids.). Those in charge of castration and ear marking sharpen their knives and the wrestlers partner up.

Then the fun begins. The first rope is cast and the first calf reeled in. Some ropers head, some heel, and sometimes the rope just lands where it lands. The ropers' horses put their heads down and steadily and gently drag the calves to the teams of wrestlers.

One person gets the front end and the other one gets the hind end. The front end person lifts the calf up and as gently as possible lays him on his side with the side to be branded turned up and kneels on the calfs neck. The back person simultaneously grabs the hind leg and sits down and pulls the leg back, stretching the calf to prevent it fighting too much. Release the rope and the roper and horse head in for another while the troops converge on the calf and wrestlers.

All of a sudden there's a lot going on. It must look like total chaos from the outside but it's actually a pretty organized deal. Everyone has their job. Shot, mark, castrate, brand, shot, mark, ear mark, check for bloat or scouts, doctor if needed, turn em loose, repeat. It's all quite efficient and 180+ can easily be branded, castrated, ear marked, and vaccinated in half a day. At any given moment there could be four or five people working on one calf with two wrestlers keeping them steady.

Which, I might add, is not always as easy as it might sound. "Keep your teeth out of the way!" Is a commonly shared piece of advice. The last thing you want is a calf foot to the face. A couple of years ago I got walloped by a flailing hind leg that I lost my grip on right in the belly which knocked me down and socked the wind right out of me. I embarrassingly rolled around on the ground gasping for air while everyone stopped to see if I was all right. (I was, mostly, except for my pride. Haha). I've even seen three or four rather large adult men struggle to get a particularly feisty calf under control, all the while keeping the health and welfare of the calves in mind.

The whole thing is a really great example of team work, both in the community sense and the partnership sense. I struggle to find anything like it, that I've ever been to, in this way. The WHOLE community comes out to help. Young and old, cattle people or not, old members of the community and newcomers too. It's the first real community get together of the year and for some this is the first time they've visited since last fall. It's always so great to see everyone. Everybody works hard and about half way through the herd the boss (in our case the Little Jenny Ranch's Gary Endecott or the Campbell Ranch's Kevin or Lenny Campbell) call for a beer break and everyone gets a chance to visit a bit before finishing the rest of the herd.

My other favorite part of branding is my wrestling partner who also happens to be my partner in life. Now we don't ALWAYS wrestle together. Sometimes me and Liz will get one for the girls and do it ourselves. Or sometimes Sam will jump in and help someone else with a particularly big calf. But I always prefer to wrestle with Sam. We're pretty good together. And I always leave the branding feeling glad that we are such good partners. It brings us together in a way that nothing else can. I mean, don't get me wrong, occasionally I'll cuss him when he loses the head and I'm left holding the tail all on my own. Or he will give me a good ribbing for not holding the calf still enough. But it's always all in good fun. We do a lot of laughing and we depend on each other directly and fully. Every time we go to a branding I feel like we learn to love each other a little bit more.

If you've never been to a branding and never smelled the acrid smoke of burnt calf hair in your nostrils and felt the heat of the brand near your foot and gotten your butt good and dirty and joined in the springtime fun then you should. You don't know what you're missing. It's one of those rare events that's both timeless AND puts you fully in the present. It's 2016 but could just as easily be the 1800's. And it gives a person a sense of purpose and a kinship with their neighbors and friends.

And, by God, we get a job done.

Yee haw.

Being an outfitter is hard work.  Being an outfitter's wife is sort of like being an indentured servant.  If you can do it, you will.  Women's equality is (sometimes unfortunately) in full swing in these relationships.  No task is delegated to one sex or the other (except cleaning the toilets, mopping the floor, vacuuming, etcetera.)  But I digress....

As an outfitter's wife you will be expected to learn how to do things you never thought you'd have to learn how to do.  Weedeating, bear baiting (see prior post), backing the trailer, driving a stick shift that also has no brakes, doctoring horses, lifting entire giant hay feeders by yourself, ​splitting 4,000 cords of wood, and FENCING.

​I will never forget my first time using a fence stretcher.  It was when I was working in Colorado at the Rusty Spurr and my boss, Han, took me over to the Orr Place and gave me a one time quick crash course and left me there to fight it out with the wire and the stretchers and the cutters.  I felt so accomplished at the end of that day.  Little did I know I had just learned something I should have tried to avoid learning.  When my husband later asked me if I knew how to use fence stretchers I should have denied, denied, denied.  But stupid me, oh yeah, I can do that!  Ha Ha.

​Now, fencing is hard enough when your fence is all nice and tidy in a beautiful green grassy field of lush grass that goes on for as far as the eye can see.  But when your fence crosses the river twice as well as two creeks and several swampy bogs all the while weaving amongst river willows that are borne of the depths of hell and the fence posts were hand carved back in 1837 and have had at least 400 fencing nails pounded in them .... well then it starts to get fun.

​The first time I fixed our fence is when I think I learned how to curse.  That time I only had my pony Tuff and our pack pony Jerry for help.  What pals.  Tuff helped me string wire and paneling across the swollen spring Hoback (even after I had already tried to drown us both in that very river the year before.... whole other story... ) and Jerry stood steady while I unloaded wire and stay posts and stretchers and reloaded them and unloaded them. 

A day out there by yourself is good though.  You think about a lot of things.  Like why the hell did somebody build this fence through this bleepity bleeping willow thicket?!?!  You also learn a lot.  Like wear sleeves.  Even if it's hotter than the Sahara, wear sleeves if you have any regard for the skin on your arms at all.  Also, paint all your tools orange, particularly your fencing pliers.  You also learn not to try to beat the willows because you will not win.  Just tie your hair back, put your head down, and fight your way to the fence.  I have tried cutting them back with nippers which is very hard work but seems like a good idea.  Next year it will have been worth it, right?  Wrong.   It's like you pruned them and the next year they come back in double force.  You will undoubtedly return home at the end of the day looking like you've been to war.... because you have.  You also learn that muck boots seem like a good idea until the water goes over the top.  Just wear tennis shoes.  Or waders. 

​Me and Tuff and Jerry have seen some really beautiful days out there though.  It's the spring so you often bump into a few new born fawns here and there.  And you are certain to see lots of goslings and hissing mother and father gooses.  They're pretty fun to watch ride the rapids of the swollen Hoback River.  Those little guys can really swim!  For a few years I had this beaver that would come to the same spot on the creek bank every year.  He'd be laid up there in the sun, on his back with his tail on his belly and I swear if he just had a Budweiser in his hand he could've been a great commercial.  Not a care in the world.  Just hanging out on a happy spring day.  And I've seen some pretty amazing storms roll in and out.  Big fluffy clouds that soak you down and make you almost want to head in and then just as quick as they came, they go, often leaving big double rainbows overhead.   The best was when I was ducking to go to the other side of the fence to avoid some willows and I spied a morel mushroom.  I ended up finding about a pound of them! 

​So, as much as I complain about the struggle, it's really pretty nice sometimes.

​And it's one of those jobs that you really get to see the efforts of your work come together to make something useful.  It's a real sense of accomplishment when you turn your horses out for the first time that spring and watch them dive their noses into the new, tender green grass and KNOW (well actually you hope) that you built a fence that will keep them safely and happily on your own grass.  (I say HOPE because I'm pretty sure Tuff pays attention when we go fencing and makes mental note of all potential weak spots and takes his friends Happy and Jerry there to test them out.)

​This year I am learning a new lesson from fencing.  You know that saying about how a good friend will bail you out of jail but a real friend will be in jail with you the next day saying, "Damn, that was fun."?   Well I think they've got that all wrong.  A REAL friend will come fencing with you.  The first time is a big deal but when they come back a second and third day to help you it's true love.  And when they wear overalls so they can follow you around and be your tool box or wade through the river in May when the water is high and FREEZING cold to help you pull the wire out of the river so you can restring it... well, I don't even have a word for that.

​And then you have someone to chatter with and solve most of the problems of the world.

And the best part of it is that after you're done you have somebody to share that sense of accomplishment with.  We did that.  We fixed that damned old fence with the rotting posts and the rusty old wire and the boggy, willowy setting and it looks damn good.  And now it's done and we can go have a beer!

​Thanks gals for the help!  Ya'll are the best!

Rocky Mountain Phlox (Phlox multiflora)

​This low, mat forming, little dainty flower is one of the most fragrant and has always been one of my favorite spring time flowers. One of the first to pop out, it is a very tough little bugger, often growing on high, windblown ridges and amongst rocks and in craggy nooks and crannies. It's sometimes white, lilac, purple, or almost blue. I've also seen it with a tinge of pink.

​On a calm, sunny day a horse ride through a patch of this colorful carpeting will fill your nostrils with a very sweet perfume like you've not smelled before.

​It always makes me smile. Also my dog Bojangles likes to roll in it (this is the same dog that likes to roll around on dryer sheets).

​The photo is from just outside of Cody, Wyoming where Sam and I did some hiking early this spring. The stuff was all over up there and is just now getting to it's peak of bloom here in Bondurant.

So, about a year ago one of my best friends calls me up from where he lives in New Zealand and says, "Hey, how's it going?  Let's go ride 400 plus miles across Mongolia next year."

I was like ​you are crazy.
We aren't doing that.

​We leave in less than three weeks.

​The 2016 Gobi Gallop is the 4th Annual running of the longest charity horseback ride in the world.  We will ride over 400 miles in 10 days time.

​Now, I ride quite a bit.  10 or 12 or 14 hours in a day is really no big deal.  We do it all the time.  However, I'm pretty sure we don't do 40 miles in a day.  The word is you go at a high trot all pretty much all day.  I am essentially going to become a long distance endurance rider overnight. 

Yee Haw!

​The beautiful thing about this ride is that it's all for the Children of the Peak Sanctuary.  The Peak is a project created by the Veloo Foundation to "alleviate the suffering and neglect of the most vulnerable and marginalized children in an Ulaanbaatar neighborhood whose residents make a living and feed and clothe their families with items scavenged from the rubbish dump."

​Over 120 children currently benefit from this program where they are fed, cared for, and educated five days a week.  Most of the families who are helped by this program were previously nomadic herders who were forced to move into the city after a very harsh winter saw ALL of their animals freeze to death.  As nomadic peoples they are undocumented and lack the many skills that might help get them a job in the city.

​Besides helping care for and educate the small children of such families the foundation also strives to provide employment opportunities for many members of the community as well as providing training and educational opportunities for young adults so that they may gain the necessary skills to enter the job force.

​50 percent of the fee for each of the 10 rider's selected to participate in this years Gobi Gallop will go directly to the Sanctuary.  I have been raising money through calendar sales and photo book sales as well as on my registered Gobi Gallop Raise-A-Thon site.

​There is still time to donate or purchase a photo book!

​I can't wait to be a part of this wonderful journey.  It's not often you get the opportunity to go somewhere amazing and challenging with your best friend while simultaneously helping other people in the world.

​I am so thankful to live where I do and have all the essentials of life readily available to me.  Sometimes we forget that the rest of the world isn't like our own great homes, that some people in this world can't even get safe food or clean water or a warm place to sleep. 

​For this reason I look forward to going to Mongolia, not just because the ride is going to be amazing and the experience unforgettable but also because I hope to get a face to face reminder of the state of the world and of the privilege it is to be an American where opportunities and relative safety and comfort abound.

​I can't wait to meet the beautiful people of Mongolia and experience a culture where the horse is held in such high regard.  I can't wait to see a new part of the world that most people only read about.  I can't wait to meet the children that our trek will raise money to help.

​I also can't wait to go and do it so I can return and tell you guys all about it!

Yee Haw!

​If you are interested in donating please visit http://www.veloofoundation.com/ and click on the one time donation button for American Residents.  Put "Gobi Gallop Alix Crittenden" in the notes box and donate as little or as much as you would like.  Every bit is helpful!

​If you are interested in purchasing a photo book that I created with my own images to help raise money for this trip you may purchase the 7x7 book HERE or the 12x12 book HERE.

And thanks so much for your support!